final flight
by The Dark Taff
Summary: What happens when the fleet loose Starbuck? Then discover they haven't! Set after SG:U ep 1 and BSG S3 Maelstrom. WIP. Am currently doing rolling rewrites of chunks of this in the hope I manage to break my writers block.
1. Chapter 1

Spurred on by a few stories I've read in here thought I'd have a go! Be Gentle?

Battlestar is owned by RDM and SyFy. Stargate by MGM. I own nothing but the idea for the story!

**Final Flight**

**Four years Ago**

**Battlestar Galactica Med Bay**

Any medical section, hospital, life centre, call it what you will has a smell and a sound like no other place in the worlds. Disinfectant, life support machines etc etc. The Med Bay of a Battlestar is no different. The Med Bay of the Galactica, oldest ship in the fleet, however, has its own brand of smells and sounds. No computer networking meant that there were more than a few unique sounds and smells and Dr Sherman Cottle, Chief Medical Officer of the Galactica contributed more than his fair share! Smoking his ubiquitous cigarette and grumbling about hot shot pilots, a lack of stores and just about anything he could think of he now faced one of the 'Hot Shots'.

"Lt. You are godsdammned lucky to have just broken your leg! Of all the stupid irresponsible..."

He tailed off and walked away to his office leaving the aforementioned pilot sitting alone.

Lt Gregori 'Kickstart' Mallen. Pilot Primus Squadron, Viper! This was all he'd dreamed of as a kid, flying a Viper in the fleet. Now that dream was a day to day job. Greg had aced flight school and been posted to a holding unit. His dream posting had come a year later, the 1st Squadron. Unfortunately this was not the honour he'd thought.

The Squadron was based on BS 75, the Battlestar Galactica. The oldest warhorse in the group and no doubt the fleet! So for two years the squadron had been involved in flag waving around the colonies, the Galctica's swansong. It had though worked out pretty well. The CAG, Jackson Spencer, was a good stick and the squadron were good guys and gals. His flight leader though, boy, she was a different case entirely! Lt Kara 'Starbuck' Thrace!

She'd joined the ship about the same time as Greg, posted from Picon Fleet Headquarters flight school. She'd not taught Greg but her reputation preceded her! Hot headed, brash and some might say too cocky for her own good. But Greg liked her and she appeared to like him. He was assigned to her flight and flew on Jolly's wing. Well normally he flew on Jolly's wing. He was currently laid up on crutches after getting into a drinking game with Kara after a Triad game. Now he sat on a cot in Cottles med centre waiting a check up. Starbuck was in hack, again, and sat in the brig kicking her heels, something to do with a card game with Tigh. Well she will piss the XO off!

Gregori Mallen was born to a banker and a teacher from a small town near Argentum on Scorpia. Standing five feet nine in his socks, with light brown hair and hazel eyes he didn't look like a pilot. He'd hated school and was forever in trouble for playing hooky. He'd always preferred tinkering with his dad's old motor bike and could ride it before he was 16.

His saviour had come in the guise of his paternal Grandfather Peter. An ex-colonial pilot he'd noticed something of himself in his young grandson and every holiday and weekend Greg would stay with his grandfather in his cabin in the hills. Peter had told him the stories of the Cylon war, the fighting in bars, the flying and Greg was hooked. The final straw came in the form of an old friend of Peters, a Colonial Colonel, who had taken Greg up in a Raptor. The young Mallen was sold and vowed to be a pilot like pops. He knuckled down in school and finally graduated.

College was next as Greg didn't have enough credits to go straight to the academy. He put in two hard years at the Celeste University finally gaining a degree in engineering. He marvelled at how he'd managed to graduate at all, considering the amount of time he spent, still, tinkering with old cars and bikes, fighting, drinking and generally being a pain. At the age of 19 though, Greg Mallen was accepted into the Fleet Academy on Picon to train as a Viper pilot.

Basic had been a breeze as Mallen was incredibly fit due to boxing and playing pyramid in high school and college. It was the authority he had problems with, frequently coming to blows with drill instructors and teachers alike. By the time he hit basic flight though he was knuckling down as this was the only thing he'd ever wanted and, following a stern talking to by Peter, could see it slipping away. Despite this though, his rebellious streak and love of motor bikes got him the nickname of 'Kickstart'. Following the 'Talk' he would be found sat poring over flight manuals in his garage outside the barracks, covered in oil and normally munching on a sandwich.

By the time graduation was on the horizon though, Greg nearly blew it. Whilst returning from a solo sortie in a Viper he buzzed his on-off girlfriend, Penny, as she rode home on her pushbike. Unfortunately her father, the commandant of the academy, spotted him hotdogging and almost ended his career before it had begun. A chewing out of monumental proportions closely followed by lots of hard calsthenics ensued and Greg was informed that he may fail flight and get reassigned to the Marines or worse! Luckily his grandfather again stepped in and saved the young Mallen's bacon. He was allowed to finish flight school and was posted to the holding squadron at Picon Fleet Headquarters.

During this time he learned to fly the Viper Mk VII and waited onward posting to one of the Battlestar Groups. About six months into the posting however, his parents were killed in a car crash. This devastated Greg and he almost went off the rails. He was once again saved, by the timely intervention of a fellow pilot, Mack 'Kicker'Thomsen, who'd taken him under his wing, guiding him through his depression and anger and by many visits to his Grandfather, sharing the grief.

Six months later Greg got his posting to the Galactica as a Viper pilot. He'd made it and was initially slightly underwhelmed. The Galactica was due to retire and the post would be short. It was only made bearable by the fact that Peter had flown from the ship in the war alongside the Commander, Bill Adama, and also because the squadron would be moved en masse to its next vessel. So here he sat, leg in a cast as the Primus Squadron flew past in review order, the old man's son in the lead, at the retirement ceremony.

'Frak!'

The soft outburst caught the ear of the Med Tech, Ishay. Who grinned and shook her head at Greg.

'Well, you'd be up there too Lieutenant...if you hadn't had one too many ambrosia's with Starbuck that is!'

She giggled and went about her work, Greg smiling at her as she went. Doc Cottle wandered over, his cigarette drooping from the corner of his mouth as usual and a grimace on his face.

'And what are you grinning at? Gods dammed pilots! No respect for anything anymore!'

He flicked the sheet on his clipboard over and looked at Greg with disdain.

'You're fit to transfer with the rest of the support crew Lieutenant. You can report tomorrow for the shuttle. What are you grinning at! Get the hell out of my life station!'

Greg smiled and hopped down from the gurney, moving as fast as his crutches would carry him!

"Thanks Doc. For everything.'

He delivered the line over his shoulder, winking at Cottle who grumbled, turned and ambled off hiding a smile and flicking ash into a bed pan.

**CIC**

**Battlestar Galactica**

**Midwatch**

The ceremony was over. The ship would now turn for Caprica and its final destination. Geo Synchronous orbit over the capital as a museum. Not the fate she deserved, or that's what Petty Officer Dee Dualla thought at least. She'd just handed off the final Viper squadron to Boomer's control and was finishing up her last pieces of work before going off shift, hopefully to track down that young aide she'd bumped into...

'ALL COLONIAL FLEET UNITS THIS IS PICON FLEET HEADQUARTERS! ATTACK WARNING!'

The wireless began to scream in her ear. Paling, she listened. Looking up she waved the officer of the deck, Lt Gaeta, over. He took the comm and also visibly paled. Without a word he lifted the 'growler' phone and called the commander.

'Yes sir, very well sir!'

Looking at Dee he paged the entire ship

**Pilots Ready Room**

Greg had been sat playing triad with himself when the ship went to condition one and had almost killed himself trying to run to the briefing room. He was brought up short when the comm. crackled to life again.

_This is the commander. Moments ago, this ship received word of a Cylon attack against our home worlds is underway. We do not know the size or the disposition or the strength of the enemy forces. But all indications point... to a massive assault against Colonial defenses. Admiral Nagala has taken personal command of the fleet aboard the __battlestar Atlantia__, following complete destruction of Picon Fleet Headquarters in the first wave of the attacks. How, why ... doesn't really matter now. _

_What does matter is that, as of this moment, we are at war. You've trained for this. You're ready for this. Stand to your duties, trust your fellow shipmates and we'll all get through this. Further updates as we get them. Thank you. _

The news washed over him like a wave. Greg sat down heavily on a packing crate in the corridor, crewmen who had stopped to listen ran off as the broadcast finished. He was left sitting looking at his feet, thoughts of his Grandfather filling his head as people ran about.

It was a group of pilots headed by Starbuck that woke him from his despair.

'Kickstart! Get yer ass into gear! Can you fly still?'

He looked up to see Starbuck, still in her utility uniform without a shirt, sweat stained tanktop and tee shirt, staring at him. He stared back, face a mask, into Kara's deep blue eyes, her defiant look told him all was well, at least in the short term. He pulled his head up and straightened.

'You try and frakkin stop me Starbuck!'

Pulling a knife out he slit the cast from his leg, joining the race for the hanger deck.

**Now**

**CIC **

**Battlestar Galactica**

'_Negative, she, she went in._'

Major Lee Adama's voice filtered through the comm. His father, Admiral Bill Adama, deflated on the spot. Kara, gone. Lost again, this time though it seemed for good. NO! NO!

'We're sending in the search and rescue birds right now. We'll find her.'

The CIC crew looked to him, Gaeta, Dee, Saul, Helo.

'_No dad it's no use, her ships in pieces, in pieces, no ship. We lost her'_

The feeling of loss that Adama, all of them, felt at this point was palpable, CIC felt like a weight had dropped on it.

Later Bill Adama sat in his quarters, his model ship on the table, trying to fix the figurine Kara had given him to its prow. The tears came, Kara, almost a daughter to him. No, definitely a daughter. Gone. He lashed out, the ship smashed into pieces, tears rolling down his face. _We'll find it Kara. We'll find Earth. For you._

**Pilots Bunk **

**Galactica**

Captain Greg Mallen sat at the small table in the centre of the room. Bottle of Ambrosia and two glasses before him. Memories whirled in his head. Dead parents, his grandfather, a hundred dog fights with the toasters. Kara Thraces blue eyes boring through his sould that day a million years ago. Now she too was gone. His friend...

'Frak, sorry Kickstart!'

Looking up Greg saw Brendan Costanza, Hotdog, standing in the doorway. His hair plastered to his head, flight gear around his waist. He'd been out with the CAG, Lee, when it had happened. Through tears and an ambrosia enduced haze Kickstart smiled crookedly and winked.

'She finally did it Hotdog! Kara Frackin Thrace finally did it!'

Costanza shifted awkwardly in the doorway. Greg was his friend and he knew how much Starbuck had meant to him. Not in a sexual way, gods no! What with Lee and now Sam and pythia only knew who else...Greg had always been the Brother Lee could never have been and Kara was the closest thing that Greg had to family left.

'Frak it Greg. Nothin we could do. She just went in. One minute the Major is screaming at her on the wireless, next...'

He let the words hang in the air, arms gesturing helplessly. Greg was drunk and getting maudlin and Costanza, tired as he was, had yet to feel the loss that he knew was coming. He pulled up a chair and moved for the glass next to Gregs. A hand shot out, grasping his wrist.

'_NO! _Thats Starbucks.'

Hotdog paused, leaned back and pulled a mug from his bunk. The hand retreated. Placated, Greg poured a generous measure and raised his own glass.

'To Kara Frackin Thrace. Starbuck. Best Viper Jock in the worlds!'

The shot was gone in a second, he coughed and refilled. _Its going to be a long one!_ Thought Hotdog and swallowed his own drink.

Hanger Deck

Galactica

The next day

'Captain? Captain Mallen?'

The voice called. Greg heard but ignored it. His head splitting with the hangover

'Godsdamn it! KICKSTART!'

Head whipping up Greg stared into Chief Galen Tyrol's face

'Frak Chief! I can hear you!'

He all but snarled at the tall Chief of the deck. Tyrols face softened a little.

'I know sir. We all miss Starbuck but on top of Anders falling off the Viper, Major Adama stalking around and the old man in a funk I now have the XO on my back and I need you to focus!'

Greg had been assigned to the training staff and was running through the checklist for simulated lessons that could be run on the newer Vipers with Tyrol, rated as he was as an Instructor Pilot on the bird being one of the only original 1st Squadron pilots remaining in the fleet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Somewhere in space**

Space is dark, very dark. This was the immediate thought that ran through the mind of the occupant of a tumbling spacecraft. The stars provided the only illumination as the dead ship turned slowly end over end. Instrumentation failing, power gone and oxygen not far behind. The pilot had only just come around. Mind foggy, unsure of how long the vessel had been stationary. How long it had been without power or actually if this was the first lucid thought she'd had for months! The last thing the pilot remembered was telling someone to let them go and falling, falling fast. She had no memory of what had happened or who she was!

'Frak!'

Looking around at the shattered cockpit, things surfaced in the sea of her mind. _Cockpit? I'm in a cockpit? _At least she still recognised that she was in a fighter and what the instruments were telling her. It appeared that the few, battery powered, instruments still functioning showed her ships orientation, power or lack of, and life support. The ship, (_Viper? That should mean something!_), was tumbling in space. There were no planetary bodies close that she could see. She had very limited battery power and in about an hour her Oxy would be out! _Great!_

Looking out of the cockpit she could see that the Viper (_definitely!_) had been battered by something and was missing its starboard wing, holes were everywhere. _RAIDER!_ _Lee? _The thought and name sprang into her head, it meant something! A moment of dizzyness followed and she closed her eyes. Slowing her breathing, opening her eyes, she set about trying to figure a way of getting out of this mess!

**Somewhere else in space**

The job could be damn boring! The ship was operating at peak performance and was so heavily automated that little could go wrong. The XO Major Kevin Marks was duty officer tonight. The ships commander, Colonel Sam Carter, was in her rack sleeping. The USAF's latest BC 304, the USS George S Hammond, cruised towards Earth following the destruction of the Icarus base.

He yawned and stretched in the chair that sat in the centre of the bridge. Quiet time. The ship was operating nominally and the damage suffered at Icarus almost repaired. Dave Kleinman's gasp at the Nav display drew a sigh from Marks.

'What's up Dave?'

As the words left his mouth klaxons and alarms sounded on the bridge. Collision warning.

'Ah shit! Now what!'

Kleinman turned in his seat and, eyebrows raised, replied

'We She's radiating very low levels of power. Sensors say one human life sign aboard. Vessel appears to be smaller than a 302 or death glider but the computer can't get a handle on type.'

As Marks watched over Kleinman's shoulder the vessel came into view. Three engines mounted to the rear, what remained of a set of stabilators and a single occupant in a cockpit under the engines at the centre of the ship. It had taken a kicking as well. It screamed _Fighter _at him.

'What's that Kevin?'

Sam Carter appeared next to her XO, startling him slightly! Something she excelled at.

'Christ! Sorry Colonel! We have a small contact, not showing much in the way of power and one, very weak, life sign.'

Sam Carter steeled herself as the adrenaline rush took over. _More trouble!_

**The Contact**

By now snippets of memory were returning. The ship was definitely a Viper. Her name was Kara and she had been chasing a Raider, whatever that was, into a cloud on a gas giant. That, though, was it! No more would come. Only a ghost of a memory that obstinately refused to come out of hiding. It taunted her along with the lion, that was the pain, stalking her in the shadows.

A quick scan of her surroundings confirmed that she was in a plane and it was hurt. The lion snarled, reminding her she was too. Training reasserted itself though and she automatically started to sort out her immediate situation before realising that she was doing so. Pushing the lion back into the shadows, she tried to fix a small hole in the side of the cockpit. Movement caught her eye. She turned, a ship appeared, slowing as it approached. Big frakker too. Not a Battlestar. _More memories_! It grew large in the starboard canopy panel. Braking thrusters firing as it slowed to a halt relative to her and a little higher.

'Oh Frak me!'

The DRADIS, _yeah that was it_, was still on low power and only showed close in objects. It now flashed and told her _**PROXIMITY WARNING **_in red letters.

"Godsdamned thing, I can see that!"

She muttered under her breath. A quick check of the War Book gave her no more information. Unknown vessel, unknown configuration. No distinguishing marks. _Frak. _The other ship had now completely stopped. Anti collision lights flashed at the same places that colonial, _another flash_, ships had them. It was blunt looking and had 2 familiar looking pods slung either side.

As she watched there was a puff of released atmosphere. A bay door swung up ponderously. Kara could see a landing bay, small ships sitting in uniform lines. _Military? _ The visitor began to move slowly forward, the Viper moving into the bay, its shadow passing over her.

'Oh great! Now what?'

**Hammond Bridge**

Marks manoeuvred the ship carefully using cameras in the bay, the structural integrity of the small ship would never have taken the force of a beam out, to bring the smaller vessel into the Hammond's hanger. Lowering it to the deck. Carter watched as the bays doors closed and patted marks' shoulder.

'Good job Kevin. Captain, Get some armed Marines to meet me at the Bay, and fire off a contact report to Washington and the SGC.'

Carter told the younger officer and strode off the bridge.

As she got to the bay access doors Sam Carter wondered what else this command would bring. She'd already seen so much since taking the ship on and now this! Unknown fighter ships popping up where they shouldn't be! All of this on top of Icarus, oh well another day at the office. Jack would be loving it! She allowed a wry grin at the thought of that particular officer and turning the corner came to the bay air lock.

Marine Gunnery Sgt Patrick Collins stood waiting, P90 slung loosely at his chest. He grinned as the boss raised an eyebrow.

"Didn't trust the juniors to watch my butt then Gunny?"

Collins had the grace to blush before he winked.

"With respect boss, the big man would crucify me if anything happened to it."

Shaking her head and grinning Carter turned to stare through the view port. She took in the ship sat in the centre of the bay. Dissecting it with a professional eye. It was dwarfed by the Hammond's own F302s.

The design wasn't anything she recognised but looked vaguely familiar, like it _should_ have been an Earth design. Very, _human looking_.

As she gazed through the port waiting for pressure to equalize, the lettering on the side became visible. _N8737_ was visible on the tail and _GALACTICA_ on the engine cowling. In English! Curiouser and curiouser. _Galactica? _She raised an eyebrow, Teal'c would be proud.

'Bay's ok to enter Colonel.'

Collins' voice broke the spell. She nodded and turned to the opening door.

'Stay frosty, but don't threaten the pilot.'

She got a nod, took a deep breath and walked into the bay.

The fighter sat on its belly and one wing. Fluids spreading in a pool on the deck plates as they approached. With a creak and a cracking sound the other wing let go and the ship crashed down to rest completely on its fuselage. The group of techs and Collins stopped behind Carter. As she inched forward the canopy slid forward on its rails. The Marine drew level with her but thankfully Collins' weapon stayed down, his stance stiffening. The pilot pulled him, no HER self, up on the coaming and jumped, shakily, down to the hanger floor. She checked the footing before looking up at the welcome committee. Then promptly collapsed.

'Med team to the hanger bay!'

Sam rushed over to the now comatose pilot, wondering what the hell she'd tell Jack.

**Med Bay**

The pilot was lying on a gurney hooked up to a drip and oxygen supply. She had been severely dehydrated and suffering from hypoxia. The ship's Doctor had immediately put her on the drip and run the usual battery of tests. Good news, not Goa'uld or Ori. The results had been attached to the report already prepared by Marks and fired off to the SGA.

Now she lay in a set of scrubs being watched by Sam and a Marine guard. Blonde hair framed a not unattractive face. A little battered perhaps but it would still turn heads. Blue eyes and about the same build as Sam, if a little younger. She was a warrior though. Collins had confiscated a sidearm that pretty much confirmed it.

A thousand questions ran through Sam's head. Who was this young lady? Where had she come from? How did she get here? And, more importantly, what had done that to her ship?

A flight suit and helmet lay on a table to one side. They looked similar to Air Force kit. Similar, but...different. Patches on the shoulders showed what was assumed to be unit and, if her race followed normal practice, vessel. A _Battlestar Galactica_ and 1st Squadron, _Primus_. In a metal tray next to the bed what was assumed were dog tags. Carter crossed to the tray, lifted the chain which was startlingly light. A name was engraved on the hexagonal golden tag. _Kara Thrace_.

'So who or what are you Kara Thrace?'

Carter spoke softly to herself.

'I'm a pilot.'

A groan from the bed, startling Carter. She turned, the Marine exchanging a look with her and backing off as she pulled up a stool.

Sam smiled down at her.. The pilot was now regarding Sam with suspicious eyes and a grim look.

'This much I know. What I mean is _who_ are you?'

Starbuck (_yeah, Starbuck, that's me!_) looked up at the strange but friendly, _can't last,_ female. Dressed in what looked like old style Colonial flight gear, she had long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was about the same age as Roslin, (_another name I know!_) but wearing better. There was something else though. Behind the eyes. The same thing that all the pilots she knew had. The same faraway hardness that Starbuck had. She'd seen action, and a lot of it.

"Well. That could be difficult. I can't remember much. Must be the effects of the trashing my ride took."

She grimaced and sat higher in the bed. Head swivelling to take in her surroundings and coming back to gaze at Carter with those piercing blue eyes.

"I know I'm Kara Thrace, I fly Vipers for the fleet and my call sign is Starbuck. But that's all.'

Starbuck looked about, again taking in the sick bay, _same everywhere. T_he guard with his rifle became visible as he shifted his feet. She returned her now defiant gaze back to Carter.

'Where the Hades am I?'

Carter, not for the first time, mentally wished for Daniel Jackson to be here. She drew a breath and began.

"I'm Colonel Samantha Carter of the United States Air Force..."

Starbuck sat up at the mention of Sam's rank. A reaction that didn't go unnoticed by Carter.

'This is the USS George S Hammond, an Earth...'

'EARTH! This is a thirteenth tribe ship!'

**Homeworld Security**

**Washington DC**

Jack O'Neill (two L's!) sat at his desk, feet up on the open draw reading the report about the Icarus débâcle. He'd been looking forward to dinner with Teal'c and Danny, but this mess had ended up on his desk. An entire team gone. Lost on some ancient ship. Well, Atlantis had been 'lost' for years before they re-established contact and at least the talky rocks worked. _Christ I hate tech shit!_ Another time, another place he'd have passed the whole mess onto Walter or Davis. Not this time though. Lt General O'Neill couldn't do what Colonel O'Neill wanted to.

It was late now. Dragging a hand down his face he swung his legs off the desk and rubbed life back into them. As he did he let his gaze roam around the walls. Badges in frames, pictures of family and friends. Some long gone others just far away. Memories. Sarah, Charlie. That still hurt. Jacob Carter and him grinning like idiots on some faraway planet. SG1 in front of the gate at Cheyenne. Ah crap he missed Sam and SG1. Cameron Mitchell was, however, doing a great job. _Damn him!_ He found it hard not to like the guy though, very like Jack in many ways.

It was hard being stuck here though. What had he told Gibbs? I will never be 'the man'! He grinned to himself and made a mental note to check in on Gibbs someday.

A glance at the clock on his wall told him it was late, and that he should get some rest. So, raising himself slowly from the chair he's inherited from George Hammond, he gathered his papers, briefcase and cap and made for the door, only to be intercepted by his ubiquitous aide, CMSGT Walter 'Chevron Guy' Harriman.

'Aww crap! No Walter! I'm goin home!'

Walter smiled apologetically and held up his hand,

'Sorry General' _that never fitted_ 'Colonel Carter has reported in. The Hammond has picked up a stray.'

Jack stopped and turned to give Harriman his best glare, usually reserved for Danny or Carter, and a surprisingly Teal'c-like raised eyebrow.

'Stray what?'

**USS George S Hammond**

**Returning to Earth**

The debrief had gone well. Carter had established, as Kara Thrace's memory had slowly returned, that she was a Captain. A fighter pilot in the Colonial fleet. She had discovered that Thrace was cocksure, arrogant and all the other things that most of the pilots she knew were. She could also detect more under the surface. Kara Thrace was also very insecure, borderline paranoid and torn by something. That would be something for the medics at the SGA to work out.

Starbuck had told of the war with the Cylons. That her colonial fleet represented the 12 worlds, the children of Kobol. That these 12 home worlds had been wiped out by that psychopathic race of robots.

She was a member of a squadron that flew from the Battlestar Galactica, a large combat carrier of the Colonial fleet. What had remained of the colonies was now aboard a mish mash of vessels in the charge of the Galactica, President Laura Roslin and Admiral Bill Adama. That they were racing away from them looking for a thirteenth tribe who had settled on a planet called earth!

All of this had been transcribed and sent in a data burst to the SGC and from there direct to Jack. A smile had spread across her face as she imagined the General rubbing his hands together at the thought of new toys! This was the kind of thing that would drag him from behind his desk too, hmmm maybe get to see him! She had banished the thought and smiled again.

From there Carter had ordered the ship to return to Earth at best possible speed. Kleinman had worked out a course that would avoid any "Imperial Entanglements" as he put it (The captains obsession with Star Wars had earned him the nickname Darth amongst the crew) and would have them home in three days.

Now as she sat on the bridge she could just make out Earth as it appeared from the darkness. It never ceased to amaze her, the thrill of seeing home again. As the small blue orb grew in the viewport the Colonel relaxed in her chair. A gasp from behind caused her to turn. There, now wearing a set of blue SGC utilities stood Captain Thrace. Carter smiled at the Captain. She stood, eyes nailed on the view, next to Marks' station.

'Earth?'

She breathed. Sam smiled again, nodding.

'Earth.'


	3. Chapter 3

**12 Jun 12 Here's the rewrite of Chapter 3. I'm slowly getting through these and improving them. Hopefully it'll help my writers block!**

**Stargate Command**

**Cheyenne Mountain**

Air Force General Hank Landry was a man not to be trifled with. Over the years many had discovered this to their detriment. Enemies, colleagues and one or two friends. It was more so when he was woken earlier the normal. Today it was the SGC duty officer, Lt Col Al Reynolds.

Nominally the CO of SG team 3 the USAF officer had been on the graveyard shift when the call came in from the Hammond. Something about a first contact situation and a stray ship. Of course he had followed SGC protocol, as laid out in the duty officers folder, and called the Home-world Security duty officer, Area 51 and finally his boss the aforementioned and now pissed off Hank Landry.

Albert Reynolds was, though, not one to be concerned with whether Landry would be ticked off. He'd followed procedures and done his job by the book. And anyway he got on well with the boss...mostly!

'What's the score Colonel?'

The taciturn General growled as he strode into the conference room. Al Reynolds jumped up from the table and wiped crumbs from his flight suit. Reeling Reynolds in by eye he stalked to his office. Al picked up the file in front of him and debated taking what was left of the Twinkie with him, discretion being the better part of valour, he left it on the table.

The office hadn't changed much since old George Hammond's day. Big desk, large chair, this one Landry's own. The obligatory unit crests and photos of the incumbent at different points in his history adorned the walls. A model of an F15 sat in the centre of the desk. A reminder of his years in the fighter community. Throwing his leather jacket over the seat, he thumped the back of it and glared at Reynolds.

"Well Albert, spit it out!"

Unmoved, used to as he was to Landry's temper, Reynolds risked a grin.

'Sam, excuse me, Colonel Carter has checked in sir. The Hammond was transiting home when they came across a ship, stranded by all accounts. One occupant. Female, mid to late twenties and apparently an officer with some kind of fleet. Details are sketchy at present sir. Report is in your read file.'

Landry sank into the over stuffed leather chair, noted its different position, _Mitchell again, _and sighed. The bad mood evaporating he looked up at Reynolds.

'Thank you Al. I'll look over it now.'

Taking this as a dismissal Reynolds nodded to Landry and retreated from the office, closing the door behind him. Landry stared a moment at the door, mind elsewhere. He noticed Reynolds sneaking the remains of his breakfast out with him and smiled. Then shaking his head he picked up the mug with his old squadron crest and filled it from his coffee machine. Being the boss had its perks!

He sipped his coffee and stared around at the pictures and the memorabilia, trying to put off the inevitable. Sighing again he smiled to himself and opened the file before him. After five minutes during which his eyebrows went from down to up to down more than once, he picked up his phone.

'Colonel Davis? Yes, good morning, get SG1 recalled. Yes I know they are on stand down. They'll understand. Thank you Paul.'

Hanging up Landry grinned. _Always something new!_

**The Hammond**

**Low Earth Orbit**

Captain Kara Thrace sat in the ships cafeteria, a coffee before her. Staring at the implausible, godsdamned beautiful view before her. Earth in all its glory, continents and oceans spread out behind the viewport. The terminator between night and day was visible below. It was easy to see the division and the cities on the night side glowed, pinpricks of light. The United States of America apparently. She laughed, shaking her head. A solitary Marine sat with her, more at ease, well his weapon was now just a holstered pistol rather than an assault rifle. At her laughter he cocked his head.

'Whats so funny Ma'am?'

Starbuck lifted her gaze from the planet below. Turned to the young Noncom.

'Nothing Sergeant Stackhouse. Just realizing how impossible this whole situation is. Its insane. Do you know how much like my home this looks from orbit.'

Her memory had been progressively returning and she could remember almost everything now. Carter had given her the run of all but the most sensitive areas of the Hammond. Of course her pet Marine had to accompany her everywhere. Stackhouse was proving to be the ideal escort though. He was polite, informative when asked questions and seemed professional enough. He was also like a coiled spring, just like most of the Marines on the Galactica. Thinking of her ship brought her up short. The rush of events had overtaken her and whilst the Hammond sat in orbit these past three days thoughts of home and her family and friends had slipped her mind. She had to find a way back.

'You ok Captain?'

The painful look on her face must have given it away.

'Yeah, yeah I'm fine Sarge. Just thinking of home.'

She smiled to let the younger man know all was well. He smiled back, adding softly;

'Well ten minutes then we have to make a move ma'am. The Colonel will be transporting down to SGC with you.'

She nodded, swallowing the last of the coffee, and stood. She smoothed down the green utilities she now wore. They were almost identical to her colonial uniform. It had startled Kara to discover so many similarities between the Colonials and the thirteenth tribe. Their language, many of their customs and most surprising the fact that things like coffee were the same. Their version of ambrosia though, whiskey, was something to behold! Grinning her most disarming smile she placed her hands on her hips and looked down at Stackhouse.

'Lead the way Sarge.'

Stackhouse blinked and stood. He had enjoyed babysitting the young pilot. She was similar in age to his sister and had eagerly soaked up the answers to her huge number of questions. She seemed very agitated about the religion question though. It appeared that Earth's monotheist system was very much like that of these Cylons that she and her fleet were running from. She had, typically for Starbuck, calmed down almost immediately and moved onto something else. Obviously recognising it wasn't Stackhouse's fault. He led her out of the cafeteria and opening the hatch he gestured to the doorway.

'This way Captain, Earth awaits! And the coffee is much better down there.'


	4. Chapter 4

**The Ch 4 rewrite! My thanks for the reviews, I'm trying to address a few bits that I didn't like or that don't scan right. As I do these I'll try to sort out the timings too. It all went a bit fast for me so the timescale will now make a bit more sense!**

**CIC **

**Battlestar Galactica**

CIC always hummed. A vibration not only from the ship or the DRADIS gear or consoles. No, it buzzed with energy from the people working there. Be they officers or enlisted, there was always a thrum of some kind.

Bill Adama thrived on this energy. An energy he noticed was less than normal. Oh there was the excitement about Baltar's ongoing trial and the closer they fleet got to the Ionian Nebular , _3? No 4 jumps? _The fleet were getting the impression they were nearing their goal. But the CIC was less vibrant than normal.

The argument with his son fresh in his mind wasn't helping his state of mind. It had been like a knife in his gut being spoken to that way by Lee. And now he'd lost the best pilot in the fleet, one of his best tactical minds...no he'd lost his son. A desolation threatened from the edges of his mind, forcing it away he concentrated on the sheaf of reports in his hand.

Operations to train new pilots continued well. A few were becoming good at it. Anders and Seelix amongst them. Sam Anders was throwing himself into training more than most but was running on the edge according to reports from Helo and Kickstart. _Kickstart. Good stick, Kara's wingman. _

Bill came up short, Kara's face coming vividly to his minds eye that he straightening up so quickly that Helo looked up from Gaeta's terminal to see the old man staring into space...again. This meant either Lee, the trial or, more worryingly, Kara Thrace.

'Karl?'

Felix Gaeta looked questioningly at Helo.

'Carry on Gaeta, plot the next jump and get an update from Racetrack.'

Helo wandered to his CO's side and looked over his shoulder at the reports.

'Training going well then?'

Adama looked over his glasses at Agathon,

'It appears so. I have a feeling we may need them sooner rather than later."

He growled at the interim XO. Sighing he threw the report on the table. Rubbing his hands over his face he put both hands on the edge of it. Karl stood there, an uneasy feeling in his gut. The Old Man was going to drop something on him.

'Lee resigned his commission. He's going to assist Lambkin in defending that man!'

Karl looked uncomfortable, the trial wasn't going well, Saul Tigh hadn't performed well under cross examination, hence his duties in CIC.

'This makes you CAG now as well as XO. Well, I need to be getting to the trial, keep me informed Helo, these power fluctuations are getting worse.'

As Helo nodded and watched the Admiral wander out, the lights flickered above his head.

**Hanger Deck**

Another vibrant area of the ship. Always full of activity. Galen Tyrol was busying himself, trying to ignore the music he kept hearing. Trainee pilots wandered about getting ready to launch a patrol. Deck hands pushed carts here, pulled planes there.

The Tyllium fuel ship decoy mission was being readied and he had a million and one things to do. And the man standing before him wasn't helping!

'Captain, I can only give you a short duration load. I have to save some for the decoy.'

Greg Mallen, coping substantially better in the weeks since losing Starbuck, stood, hands on hips, facing off with Tyrol _Again _over fuel issues.

'Galen, I realise the stress you're under to keep up with this frakkin mess, but I gotta have the fuel to train these nuggets! They don't get trained, we don't get CAPs and fighter cover.'

He sighed, suddenly not wanting to argue with his friend.

'Tell ya what, just give me what fuel is spare. I'll drop the flight to Just me and Seelix.'

Tyrol smiled and nodded, grateful that the fight had gone out of Mallen.

'Ok Captain, I'll do what I can.'

He turned, patting Greg's shoulder, to the deck crew.

'Figurski! Fuel up 72 and 31 with a patrol load. Full ammo though!'

The short knuckledragger nodded and turned back to the Viper. Greg sighed again and snagging his helmet he turned to the pilot stood behind him.

'You up for this one Hardball?'

The ex-knuckledragger grinned up at Greg,

'Just a walk in the park sir!'

Greg returned the grin and gestured to the Vipers

'Saddle up then kiddo and lets see what you can do.'

He strode away and climbed up into his Viper, tail number 4372. The old girl was soot streaked and pockmarked from all the battle repairs but she still flew straight and true. He paused a moment on the ladder, looking about him. Breathing the jet fuel smell. The moment passed and he jumped into the Viper.

As he settled into the cockpit he accepted the plane from Figurski, signing the handover sheet. Legally the Viper was now his responsibility. Securing his helmet he slid back the canopy and waited as 6231 was towed into the launch tube.

His hands flew over the controls running checks and testing systems with the speed that told of his years in this cockpit. 4372 and Kickstart seemed to be linked inextricably together. He'd flown more hours in this MkII than any other. It had actually become an in joke amongst the pilots. He had once almost punched Hotdog out over some damage the Viper had picked up! Dee Dualla's voice came over the wireless, dragging him away from his almost complete checks.

'Kickstart, Flight ops. Butcher Flight cleared to launch.'

Smiling, he keyed the comm,

'Roger that Dee. Break. Hardball, cleared to go.'

He got two clicks on the wireless from Seelix to confirm and then over the link to the LSO;

'Instruments... in the green. Fuel pressure... nominal. Interval check.'

'All indicators green. Clear to launch.'

The launch bay doors quivered as the Viper ran up its engines. Condensation dripped from the reinforcing ribs on its surface.

'Run up.'

'Maglock secure, initiate launch sequence...Butcher 31 away'

The bay doors slid up and the Viper slid forward as the deck hands pushed her into the tube. Figurski, the plane captain for 4372, patted the wing-tip and nodded to her pilot who returned the nod with a look of grim understanding. _ Look after my bird _the look seemed to say. Greg waved a hand at Kelly in the LSO booth and went through the same sequence Seelix had moments before. A soft bump and a louder clunk signalled that the tubes autosystems had accepted his planes nose gear. Heart rates increased in the cockpit and the booth.

'Maglock secure, initiate launch sequence...Butcher 72 away.'

A kick in the small of his back, the usual odd sensation of rapid acceleration and the tube swept past. He tried his usual trick of counting the ribs on the tube wall, failing as normal. Then a flash as the fighter popped out from its mouth. The Galactica receded in the mirrors on his canopy and there, spread out before him, the fleet. Seelix in 6321 was ahead of him, passing Colonial One. A quick check of his instruments showed all was well and seconds later Kickstart formed up on Seelix's wing, waving at a face in a window of the Presidential ship.

'Right then nugget lets see if anything I've taught you has sunk in! We've got minimum time to get this right before we go back to the barn so relax into it. After this the Raptor _will_ be a walk in the park!'

**Stargate Command**

**Cheyenne Mountain**

**Earth – Two Weeks earlier**

The trip from the Hammond to the SGC had been, well, fast! Starbuck had watched in awe and no small amount of concern as Stackhouse had grinned and actually _waved _before disappearing as they beamed out of the bridge and reappeared in a conference room in front of a table around which a group of the most diverse people she'd seen in a long while sat.

SG1 had in turn watched as the Asgard beam flared and cleared to reveal Sam Carter and a young blonde woman clad in green duty BDUs. She blinked and wavered slightly before Sam gently steadied her. The young woman looked around, tapping her toe on the ground as if testing the firmness of the earth under her feet. Her head then slowly came up and eyes came to rest on the assembled team and SGC staff. They went wide and a grin creased her face.

'Hey. Neat trick. So this is earth huh?'

Hank Landry smiled back as he stood, hand out, to greet the two officers. Sam nodded in greeting to him and then smiled at her friends and former team mates at the table.

'Captain Thrace I presume? Major General Henry Landry United States Air Force'

Starbuck straightened and swung up a salute of bone cracking precision, _the old man would be impressed! _

'Sir! Captain Kara Thrace, Battlestar _Galactica_. At your orders!'

_Gods, why had she reported like a cadet! _Hank Landry grinned and lazily returned the salute before again extending his hand. Kara's smile slipped slightly, her eyes misting as she grasped the outstretched hand.

'Welcome to Earth Captain.'

And so, the first member of the Twelve Colonies _formally_ met the Thirteenth tribe. A now somewhat startled Starbuck sat next to a smiling Sam Carter as the introductions were conducted. By the time the Cylon problem and the Colonials plight were explained there were a lot of wide eyes and gaping mouths around the table.

'Fascinating!'

Daniel Jackson broke the silence that followed.

'Indeed.'

Teal'c. Standard eyebrow raised. This brought a smile to Carters face. She cleared her throat and stood, moving to the large display screen, currently showing the SGC insignia, at the head of the room. She took a breath.

"Based on data we've taken from the debrief of Captain Thrace aboard the Hammond I think with a bit of tinkering we can narrow down the area in which the Colonial Fleet are in."

Diagrams flashed up on the screen.

'So how _do_ we find the fleet?'

Cameron Mitchell voiced the unasked question that was in all their minds. Starbuck sat a little straighter and opened her mouth to speak only to be silenced by a voice from behind her.

'Yeah, how do we do that Carter?'

All heads turned to see Jack O'Neill standing with his trademark lopsided smile plastered across his face.

'Hi campers!'

**Battlestar Galactica**

**CIC**

Karl Agathon walked into the CIC, in his current billet of CAG he doubled up as deputy XO when Tigh was 'indisposed' and last seen the XO was wandering the corridors listening to walls! He spotted Gaeta sat at the plotting table and headed over.

'Hey Felix, how goes it?'

Gaeta looked up, eyes red from hours of duty and smiled grimly. Swinging up a salute.

'XO.'

Helo returned the salute, smiling softly,

'Lieutenant. Ah its only temporary, the Colonel will, um, pull it together. Anything to report?'

Gaeta ran his eyes over the papers and screen before him.

'All ok so far, trial notwithstanding. The decoy mission is away, we have no evidence to show they're being followed and Racetrack hasn't seen anything. Kickstart is about to land on with Seelix but thats it.'

Helo looked grim for a moment.

'Anything else sir?'

Gaeta enquired

'No, no, I was just, ah I was just remembering back on Caprica when the weather was about to change, you'd get this smell in the air. The sun could be out, not a cloud in the sky but you'd get this smell. You'd know something was over the horizon. Weathers changing Felix, we need to be ready for it.'

He turned and walked off muttering over his shoulder.

'There's a storm coming.'

**Officers Quarters**

Saul Tigh staggered across the room as the music cam unbidden into his head. Pushing his couch out of the way he pressed his ear to the wall of his quarters.

'Its in the ship! _Its in the frakkin ship_!'


	5. Chapter 5

**Rewrite of chapter 5!**

**Stargate Command**

**Cheyenne Mountain**

**Earth**

Jack stood there, hands in his pockets grinning like a loon. He'd worn his old green BDU uniform and looked, to Daniel and Carter as if he'd never left! The only difference were the three black stars on each collar point and that his hair was greyer. _Distinguished lookin!_ Savouring the moment he grinned and gestured to Sam.

'Please Carter, do continue!'

He sat next to an equally startled Teal'c and grinned, annoyingly, again at his team, his friends and a baffled Starbuck. Hank Landry chuckled and gestured at Jack.

'Captain Thrace. Lieutenant General Jack O'Neill, head of Homeworld Security. He likes to make an entrance!'

Kara nodded dumbfounded at the new officer. She looked around the room and took in the group of people sat at the table. The connection she could see, the relationship that transcended friendship. There was a huge feeling of family here. Sam Anders face flashed in her head, vividly followed by images of Lee, the old man, Helo and Greg.

Jack O'Neill caught a flash of something on Kara's face and smiled at her, she smiled back getting the feeling she'd like the older man. He had an aura of command and respect she was picking up on, reminded her of the old man. Underlying it though was a sense of humour that she could feel bordered on the insane! His eyes told a story too, not quite the thousand yard stare but he'd seen more than she would ever see.

Carter pulled herself out of shock and suppressing her joy at seeing Jack, _General Jack, _she pointed the remote at the screen.

'Well sir, Captain Thrace...'

Kara coughed and smiled.

'Starbuck, Colonel, please?'

Sam smiled back, she got the feeling that the younger woman was being more polite now than she'd ever been. Then again it wasn't everyday that you met your ancestors!

'Starbuck and I worked on the problem during the couple of days it took to get back to Earth. We managed to hook up her fighters nav system to our own computer on the Hammond. It basically...'

Jack coughed and waved at Sam.

'Carter? Lets pretend I never left? '

She grinned.

'Of course sir. It connected fine but we need to hook up a bigger system so we can positively locate the Colonials. At a rough guess though its more than likely located here, somewhere in the NGC 2440 Nebula.'

She clicked the remote and a graphic appeared showing the far end of the stargate network.

'Puppis constellation I think.'

Jack said softly, a few raised eyebrows but Sam knew that Jack was an avid astronomer and kept his interests quiet, cultivating the Neanderthal image for all its worth.

'That's real far out Sam. Can we reach it? I mean by Stargate, or will it take a ship?'

Mitchell asked, leaning forward, keeping one eye on Jack _The General sure is a dark horse!_

'I mean that's on the edge of our coverage and well out of anyone's territory.'

Sam considered this for a moment.

'I think its doable, it could take about a week, maybe less if we can pinpoint it with the data from the Viper. The Hammond could make it, its only about 4000 light years. But the area is full of anomalies and solar disruption. Its a possible reason that the Stargate network stops short of the area."

Starbuck raised a hand and spoke for the first time. Heads turned to her and, again uncharacteristicly, she blushed.

"How will the fleet return with us Colonel? I mean we could get lost out there."

Sam nodded at the question. Simply put but getting to the nub of things straight off.

"I think I can reverse work a jump system for them. The Colonials FTL is basically similar to ours, slightly more simplistic in operation but the calculation system appears very much the same as the Nav-Dos on our ships. Bottom line? Give me a week and I can have the program worked out and loaded to the Hammonds Nav system. Then we can begin the search.'

Landry and Jack exchanged glances, Jack held out his hand, indicating that it was not his move yet. Landry nodded.

'OK Colonel. Take what you need and get it done. Mitchell, prepare to take SG1 and SG3 aboard the Hammond. Liaise with Al Reynolds. Doctor Jackson, I'd like you to see that Captain...Starbuck is settled in the guest quarters and make sure she gets a brief on the operation here and on Earth in general. Starbuck, if you'd like to go with Doctor Jackson, he'll make sure you're looked after. Lets get this done people!'

The General stood, signalling the meeting was at an end and began to lead Jack to his office. Jack stopped as Sam walked to the stairway. Hank Landry suppressed a grin.

'Colonel, its good to see you.'

This brought Sam up short, she hadn't expected anything like this yet. More like later in her apartment, privately! She smiled, shyly. Even though It was common knowledge now that the two were an item.

'Yes sir, you too.'

Jack winked as he caught Teal'c and Danny exchanging what looked like a ten Dollar bill and smiled at his fiancé.

'Can you do this Sam? I mean reverse engineer the Captains ships doohicky?'

Another, warmer, smile at Jacks innate ability to sound dumb even though he wasn't. She placed her hand on Jacks arm, a gesture that didn't go unseen by Mitchell who handed over another ten to Jackson with a grimace, and squeezed. Turning she wandered after the rest of her former team. Jack smiled and turned to Hank Landry

'OK Hank lets talk. Oh and how many pools do you guys have going here on me and Carter?

**SGC Level 24**

Daniel Jackson had showed Starbuck to her new quarters and explained that whilst she was not a prisoner, she'd not be allowed off base alone just yet. He was fascinated by the whole Colonial thing and to be honest was bursting to ask more questions than he maybe should. Here was a human female from a society that had paralleled their own development in more ways than was fathomable. To say it had piqued his interest was a colossal understatement!

'And here's the commissary.'

Danny led the way into the SGCs cafeteria and got them seats before grabbing two coffees. Kara looked about, pictures of Earth aircraft and mountains on the walls, personnel in lab coats and uniforms sat chatting and eating. She looked up at Jackson as he sat down with two cups. The man was older than her by about ten yahren, short dusty brown hair, grey eyes and again that something that told of many things unsaid that he'd been through. Not unattractive and despite the fact he was obviously a scientist he was as fit as many Marines she'd known.

'Stackhouse told me the coffee would be better here.'

Jackson grinned wondering if he should tell her about...maybe later! He grinned at her comment.

'So Captain. Tell me a bit about the colonies?'

Starbuck smiled and launched into her limited knowledge of the history of her home.

'Well, I'm a pilot not a sister of Pythia, but here goes!'

Daniel settled in for a long q and a session

**Commanding Officers Office**

Jack sat in the seat opposite Hank Landry's desk. Looking about he took in the office, the slight changes, the new pictures. Smiling he saw the photo of all of them celebrating Mitchell's 200th journey.

'Like what you've done with the office Hank, very homey!'

Hank smiled at his friend and passed a mug of coffee to Jack, whose eyebrows went up when he noticed it was in a Simpson's mug! _His Simpson's mug!_

'Ah, wondered where this was! Nothing is sacred once you get a couple'a stars eh?"

Landry smiled and sat down. First the jokes then O'Neill would get serious. He was not disappointed.

"So. The Colonials. How do we do this Hank? 40 odd thousand more mouths to feed, house and god knows what!"

Landry eyed his friend with suspicion, Jack O'Neill worrying about minor issues like this? No mention of the Galactica or the myriad other goodies that this could bring.

'Well yes, but what about the technology we can gather and these Cylons that are chasing them?'

Jack regarded his friend and drew a breath.

'Yeah. There is that. They may have stuff we can use. And to be honest Hank, the replicators were machines and we dealt with them! I don't think we'll have much of a problem. I want to talk to the President about it but we need to get the Colonials onside and extend the hand to them...What?

Jack stopped as a grin spread across Landry's face

'Just that you're beginning to sound like a General Jack! Never thought I'd see the day!'

Jack grimaced and waved the remark away

'Yeah, terrible isn't it! Seriously though, Starbuck seems genuine and if all this pans out we'll have a new ship or ships to add to the inventory and new allies to boot! I'm going to push for a diplomatic section to go. Maybe Wolsley to help Danny out with it. The Colonials seem to have a government in place and the religious aspect is worrying as well.'

Landry nodded

'Seems like a plan. And yes, this Polytheist culture may have an impact on where we place them. Doctor Jackson will hopefully have a few ideas. I think that he'll be the best person to drag anything more out of the young Captain. Speaking of which I'd like to give her a crash course on the 302, give Mitchell a chance to bond. Could mean starting her on something less daunting. And I know that Bill Lee and his geeks are itching to get hands on her Viper."

Jack nodded, pondering a few things. One thing remained unsaid though.

'Hank. I'm going to push to be in command of the mission. No reflection on you or Carter pal, just feel that if anyone should go its me. Ya know, being the big man and all.'

He grinned at Landry who despite itching to go along could see where Jack was coming from.

'The IOA will be put out at that. But Taking Wolsley along will smooth any feathers you'll ruffle. Can Sheppard take being in charge of Atlantis?'

Jacks grin got wider at the mention of Colonel John Sheppard.

'Heh, I'm thinking of taking his team along as well. About time they had a purpose. And besides McKay will bug the shit out of Sam!'

This brought a laugh from Landry

'Oh man you are evil! Ok, where does this leave me? I mean in the grand scheme?'

Jack sipped his coffee before looking up

'I want you to work out a backup plan. You'll have command of the group. Have a couple of 304s in reserve. The British have their ship, Ark Royal, up and running so I'll have them along. The Apollo can be the reserve fleet flagship with the Sun Tzu. What's the Brit SG team? 22?'

The British had been read in on the Stargate for some years and recently had managed to build their own 304, the Ark Royal, and an all British team, SG 22. They'd pushed for that number as it was the SAS's regimental number! Landry looked at a file on his desk for a moment.

'Yes, they should be arriving at Peterson tonight I think. Throwing them in at the deep end?'

Jack grinned again.

'Yeah! Why not! One big party! Hmmm, hope there's cake!'

**Peterson Air Force Base**

**0255 hrs**

The Hercules transport aircraft taxied off runway one-seven right and headed for the secure hanger belonging to the 721st Mission Support Group, the parent unit of NORAD. A deuce and a half truck and several Chevvy suburbans sat under the watchful eyes of a US Marine sat behind a fifty cal machine gun on top of a hummer.

The Herc spun on its undercarriage until the tail pointed at the hangar. The rear-door opened and a figure in flying suit and headset ran down trailing a long radio cord. She, this the Marine noted with a grin, gestured to the back of the plane and two more figures, this time in Brit camouflage uniform, pulled down the ramp legs on the tailgate.

As the engines of the Herc wind-milled and died, a throatier roar filled the air. A pair of maroon Land Rover Discoveries drove out onto the tarmac. Now more figures appeared, four in the new British DPM uniform, one or two in suits and a young lady in the blue of the RAF.

'So. Here we are.'

A light rain had started and Major Peter Phillips squinted up into it as the RAF crew unloaded the green boxes and holdalls that constituted the teams gear. His boys, and one girl he noted, gathered around him expectantly. Pete Phillips, 32 years old and hailing from a small Welsh village near Bridgend, didn't believe his luck. He'd been due to finish with 22 SAS and return to the 2nd Battalion of the Royal Welsh. Then an anonymous man in a suit had arrived in Hereford and dropped this in his lap. Pete still didn't believe it! Take a small team, his choice of personnel, fly to Colorado for duty with some new multi-national team. Well it kept him with the Regiment and that was all he wanted at the moment.

The team was an eclectic mix, himself and Sergeant Chris 'Ryan' Benton from 22, Lieutenant Bryan McBride from the Royal Engineers and Corporal Steve 'Shady' Davison from the Paras. McBride was a late addition. Forced upon him by the same nondescript suit. Phillips was, by nature, a suspicious man. It was a trait that had saved his hide more than once in the past. And now his spidey senses were tingling like mad every time he looked at the Lieutenant.

The girly? Well Sergeant Kirsty Craigavon was an IT geek from the Air Forces 90 Signals Unit at Leeming in Yorkshire and was by all accounts a the top of her unruly blonde mop to the tips of her boots she looked an unlikely candidate for this kind of op, but her file showed qualifications in parachuting, intelligence gathering and she'd done time with the Royal Signals as a voice analyst. He looked at her now, cleaning her glasses, and hoped she had the balls to cope. A deep Welsh accent interrupted his thoughts,

"Well boss? Where now?"

Shady Davison was from Swansea, not far from Pete, and the pair knew each other from the Army Rugby team. The stocky Para stood with his hands in his pockets, grinning from ear to ear. Phillips shrugged and motioned to the gear now stacked up behind the team being checked by a small man in USAF uniform.

"Well I think that once we're checked out here I may take a bimble over to base ops and get our orders sorted. Where's Ryan?"

Shady's grin grew again

'Trying to chat up the Loady again I think."

Chris Benton, a 35 year old ex Irish Ranger, had a reputation as a ladies man and twice had tried to impress the RAF Sergeant Loadmaster on the flight from the UK. Pete rolled his eyes and gestured with his head at Shady.

'C'mon, I'll rescue her. You grab McBride and Kirsty and meet me at ops. Send the gear on with the yanks and bring one of the discos.'

Shady nodded, patting his pockets for his cigarettes he fished one out and lit it. Waving away the attentions of a yank Marine he gestured _follow me _to the young RAF Sergeant and Engineer and jumped into the red Land Rover.


	6. Chapter 6

**SGC Laboratory 3**

The lab always remained a home from home to Sam Carter. Despite having moved to Atlantis and back and then to the Hammond it always felt comfortable, more so than her apartment at times!

Apart from the subtle upgrading of systems, equipment and such like it was pretty much the same as she'd left it. Tools and gear still strewn around as if she'd never been away. The only evidence that someone else had used this particular lab were the remains of a baloney sandwich on top of a work bench. _Bill Lee, figures. _Sam grinned at the thought before setting to work on the Viper Nav system.

The large grey box sat on the bench. Yellow writing on two sides telling whoever maintained the kit how to isolate it and connect it to the two ships it fitted. It seemed to be very similar to many earth made instrument packages and actually had almost identical mounting lugs to those on the F15 and the 302. _Interesting. _Plugging in the test-bed computer she got a green light and smiled as she typed in the diagnostic commands. This should at least make the job easier. It had taken two days of work, sometimes with Starbuck, to write the diagnostic program. Fingers crossed it would work.

Ten minutes later, with more of an idea of how the system worked, she set about extrapolating the last known nav fix that the fighter had made with its home base. A few moments of doubt crossed her mind as the two computers talked to each other. The lack of networking in the Galactica didn't help, but a red light flashed and Sam grinned as the screen scrolled the details.

'Wow. Not so far after all!'

Sam hit print and headed out to grab General Landry.

**SGC Commisary**

Elsewhere in the complex Daniel was finishing his fourth coffee and starting his second notebook. The talks he was having with Starbuck was paying dividends! He now had a far greater idea of Colonial society and religion. Between getting acquainted with the planet, the US Air Force and the SGC Kara would meet up with Daniel to discuss the 12 Colonies and their history.

As well as a better understanding of the Cylon threat he'd begun to get to know Captain Kara Thrace. She was a woman of many layers. Hard on the outside but vulnerable and emotional as well. Despite her hard edge though he found her to be communicative and, despite heavy Jack-like sarcasm, quite a nice person.

'So you have family aboard the Galactica?'

Daniel pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled. Kara grimaced slightly and toyed with her now cold coffee.

'Its, ah, complicated Doc. The old man, Admiral Adama, is like a father to me. I have a husband, Sam, and lots of friends. Lee...Well lets say that Lee and I have history.'

She delivered this last line with a weary smile. Daniel noticed and raised an eyebrow before grasping her meaning.

'Ah. I see. Lee?'

Again a grimace. But this time with something else beneath that Daniel noted.

'Major Lee Adama, CAG of the Galactica and the old man's son. Um I used to be...well engaged to his brother, Zak. And after his death, well lets just say things have been a bit up and down.'

Another scribble in the note book. Kara noticed and grimaced.

'Keepin up there doc?'

Daniel smiled embarrassed that she'd seen his scribblings.

'Um, ah yeah. Helps me to keep track. Also we need to know as much about the Colonies and your people as we can. It'll help in the long term with settling you.' _And give us an idea of your level of technology!_

Kara smiled, understanding exactly what Jackson was doing.

"Anyway, I have to go now Doc. Early start at someplace called Luke? I'm being let loose on some of your planes!"

**21st Fighter Squadron Dispersal**

**LUKE AFB**

**Next Morning**

Colonel Jim Connors glanced at the orders he'd been handed then up at the young pilot stood before him. She wore the wings of a senior pilot and her orders indicated she was an instructor. Yet he had never even heard of a Captain Kara Thrace of Redwood Falls, Minnesota. And Connors prided himself on knowing who was who in the fighter community. But, here she stood, exhibiting all the usual traits of a young fighter pilot. _A female Jack Locke_ he thought to himself, remembering his old CO now long dead. _Oh great!_

"Well Captain Thrace, I don't know where you've been hiding yourself but I don't appreciate people just appearing on my squadron expecting the world!"

Starbuck straightened at this. She was on her own, Landry and O'Neill obviously trusted her enough to let her out in the world. Well alone apart from the two SG 5 team members that followed her everywhere!

"Look sir, I'm not at liberty to tell you diddly! All I need is work up training on the F16. Thats all. I'm due back to the S...to my parent unit in a week and need to fly your bird."

Connors frowned a little then brightened as he watched the young flyer almost dancing from foot to foot before him. He shook his head and nodded towards the Chevy Suburban and the two SG5 tails.

"They with you? Cos the Viper _she stiffened at that _is a two seat bird Captain."

Kara nodded and grinned.

"They are Colonel. But they'll stay here until I'm done. I'm checked out on the simulator and need to get my butt airborne."

He smiled again, more warmly this time, and nodded.

"OK young Captain! Get your ass to life support, grab some gear and meet me in flight plans. You're going for a ride!"

**F16B 93-0825**

**Runway 3 Left**

**45 Minutes later**

The taxiway sat shimmering before the nose of the two seat fighter trainer she sat in. Kara Thrace was like a coiled spring. Connors had made her sit through the brief about the mission, a two ship with a Viper from the 425th Fighter Squadron. She'd noted a few differences in terminology but on the whole it had all been very familiar to her own fleets way of doing things. Now, wearing a helmet that was a little more constricting than her own one, she sat perspiring as the flight prepared to depart.

"Luke tower, Gambler One Zero with a flight of two requesting taxi to the active for a low-level VFR departure to the north for ACMT package three."

The pilot in the lead aircraft, Major Pete Caplan, called the tower.

"Gambler One Zero, Luke. Clear taxi runway zero three Lima. You are number two and three after the departing Charlie seventeen. Wind is 029 at 5 knots. Contact Luke departure on turn out. Have a nice day."

A large grey transport thundered past the two fighters. The single seater pilot looked across at Thrace and nodded his head. She nodded back and after a three count the two aircraft taxied to the threshold.

"Here we go Captain, show me what ya got!"

Connors deep voice rumbled from behind her. Another nod from the Major and they were off, rocketing up the runway, Kara let out a Whoop that had the Colonel giggling under his mask.

**General Landry's Office ten days later**

**SGC**

Hank Landry sat and read reports that spread across his desk. Preparations for the mission were continuing apace. Carter had made incredible progress with the Vipers systems and was deep in an A Team moment building an interface for the Earth ships navigation systems.

Jackson had a better idea of the way the Colonials worked and their society and was to brief the IOA, Atlantis team and dignatries later today.

Starbuck was becoming fully integrated with the SGC and seemed to be weathering the plethora of visits from the IOA and state department. Later today more meetings with the President himself along with the Prime Minister of the UK and Ban Ki Moon of the UN. She'd been flying the pants off pilots in the F16, F15 and F22 and was now transitioning to the 302 with Evan Lorne.

Work up training was almost complete and the newly formed SG 22 (a big fuss from the Brits had forced that one!) were undergoing strenuous work with SG1 and SG3. The Atlantis teams were making themselves busy, McKay had been thrown out of the lab twice by Sam Carter and was now bugging Bill Lee as he waited for her to allow him back in!

Sipping from his mug he smiled at the thought. A knock on his door brought a halt to his reverie. Looking up he saw Cam Mitchell, dressed in the new USAF multicam uniform for Special Forces, standing with a familiar face. Lt Col John Sheppard, still in his Atlantis uniform, grinned.

'Hey General!'

Hank smiled and gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk.

'Just in John? Hows the team settling in?'

Sheppard smiled and sat down,

'Well sir, Rodney is bugging Sam already, _a knowing smile,_ Ronan is getting reacquainted with Teal'c and has made some friends in the SAS team. I'd say we're good to go. Richard is talking to Captain Thrace when she returns from work-up training on the 302."

Hank Landry smiled at this.

'No doubt he'll have his hands full there. Jackson says she's a firecracker, but quite a softie underneath. She misses her husband and friends. The good captain will be back in a few hours.'

Sheppard and Mitchell smiled together, Cam shuffled forward in his chair. His eagerness was showing.

'We're good to go sir. SG1,3 and 22 are prepared and the Hammond, Ark Royal and Apollo are sitting in orbit as we speak. I think that we should be go by first thing six weeks from now. If I can drag Sam, Kara and Danny away from things that is!'

A grin from Landry at Mitchell's ready use of Thraces first name. She really was fitting in here well. Well enough that he'd even considered letting her join an SG team! At least for a few missions anyway.

"Good, I'm glad. We have a mission breifing coming up. Kinda finalize a few things. Jack is coming too. I'd like you to brief some of it John."

Sheppard smiled.

"Sure thing sir. I have all the notes somewhere..."

**F302 Dancer Two**

**Earth Orbit**

The 302 was reacting like a stabbed rat, to quote Cam Mitchell. It was different to a Viper, less control in some ways but more in others. More like an atmospheric fighter than a space one but it was fun all the same. The controls were very similar to the Viper as well but having a backseater was very different. Ok in a Raptor but not so with this bird.

'Ok Captain lets hit the barn.'

Kara grinned under her mask. Even the terminology was the same. Lt Col Evan Lorne was a competent if cautious instructor. At least as good as Connors at Luke.

She'd loved the F16 and was surprised and pleased to find its nickname was Viper as well. The F15 was a bit more cumbersome but more like her Mark II. Then there was this! The 302 took the biscuit. No G-Forces, massive acceleration and armed to the teeth. In short Starbuck loved it! _Can't wait to show Lee and Greg this baby! _

'Ok, Colonel, hold onto your teeth!'

Lorne didn't have a chance to reply as he was thrown against his straps. The Compensator's whined in protest as they fought to keep up with her manoeuvres.

She'd turned up at the 510th's dispersal wearing USAF flight gear complete with Air Force rank and flight insignia (Jacks idea it transpired) and waved a set of orders in his face. After checking with the SGC, in fact Harriman had confirmed for General O'Neill, he'd started Thrace on the 302.

She was a fast study and it had taken less time than normal to get her up to speed. Suspicions aroused he'd tried John but the Colonel was unavailable. So here he was strapped into a 302 with a maniac!

'Dancer Two, Flight, Flash traffic.'

The comm crackled in their ears.

'Flight, Dancer Two. Send it.'

'Dancer Two, Flight. Hotel Sierra Niner sends. You are to divert immediately to Sierra Golf Charlie. That callsign says that the visitors are waiting and there's cake.'

Lornes eyebrows went up at this. _Iknew it! _His suspicions confirmed he leant over and tapped her helmet.

'Direct to the SGC eh Starbuck. Looks like you know more than you letting on! Flight, Dancer Two. We're en route to the Odyssey at this time. Punch it Thrace!'


	7. Chapter 7

**SGC Laboratory 3**

Sam Carter sat nursing a luke warm coffee. The hum of computers, of the air-con and the buzz of personnel tuned out as she concentrated on the small screen in front of her. She'd worked on this for weeks now and could feel it was close to completion. The systems were now talking to each other properly and the translation of raw data to workable charts and locations was working.

Kara had helped and was fitting in as if she'd always been here. She was a fast study and was already qualified on the F16, 15, 22 and in the past few weeks the 302. And apart from being a bit hotheaded in the cockpit and the firing range she was a likeable enough youngster.

She had mood swings though, but talking to Dr Lam and Teal'c seemed to help. Teal'c especially had helped her through. Being an Alien himself he had a unique outlook on Earth! Sam's one concern was that she'd burn out. There was still a lot floating under the surface that they didn't know. Starbuck had touched on the debacle of New Caprica, her incarceration by an enemy that couldn't die and the trauma of surviving. All a hell of a lot for a woman her age to deal with.

**Peterson Air Force Base 25m Range**

'At the target in front in your own time...GO ON!'

3 C8 assault rifles barked as the team practised and zeroed their personal weapons.

The SAS team, SG22 were getting into the swing of this duty quickly. They'd all been blown away by the operation and none of them had entirely believed the Stargate was actually real. Right up to the point that Daniel Jackson had shown them SG 11 returning from a mission.

Pete Phillips had listened and watched incredulously as the event horizon flared and the team had strode down the ramp. Four men dressed in green fatigues with black vests had exited and been met by General Landry. The incredulity had increased when Jackson had briefed them on the next part of the mission and the existence of a British SPACESHIP! At this point he'd laughed and shook his head. The briefing had lasted four hours!

Now they were almost six weeks into the work up and becoming integrated on the SGC team. Shady was his usual stoic self, taking it in his stride, Kirsty was also being very technical about things and had spent a great deal of time learning the languages of the different races as well as bugging Dr Lee about the systems the SGC used.

The only weak link was the Engineer Lieutenant, McBride. He'd been ill at ease with McBride's inclusion on the operation and was talking to the IOA rep from the UK after the team check zeroed their weapons. _Need to check this guy out._

The firing ceased. A quick glance showed the three had dropped their rifles out of the aim and he could see the bolts locked to the rear.

'Anyone not finished? OK, detail unload!'

The drills were undertaken swiftly, even by Kirsty, a realtive newcomer to the weapon.

'OK, for inspection, PORT ARMS.'

Pete walked behind each of them, checking the chambers of the weapons and tapping them on the arm, uttering _Ease springs_ as he did so. Ryan and Shady raced off to the targets to compare groupings and collect on bets. Kirsty hung back, pulling a packet of cigarettes from her smock pocket she swept a stray hair from her face and lit it.

'Like a couple of kids!'

Her lilting Scottish burr softly spoken. Pete grinned and accepted the proffered pack and lit his own with the zippo he'd bought in the Peterson PX.

'Yeah, they are. But I'd take the fuckers anywhere. Chris can be a bit of a sex pest but he's a damn good soldier. And Shady I've known for ages and he's solid.'

He stole a glance at the petite blonde beside him and grinned.

'I'm beginning to trust you too Sarge. Not so bad with the old gat and you seem to be able to resist Ryan's charms.'

Kirsty blushed and smiled, blowing a blue cloud. She rear slung her weapon and looked up at Pete.

'Why thank you kind sir! I'll take that as a compliment. You three aren't too bad yerselves. Despite being Taffs and a Sasanach!'

Phillips grinned back and gestured to the target they'd reached.

'Hmmm, did drop a round though, you owe me a fiver kiddo!'

**SGC Ready Room**

As the meetings and briefings continued upstairs, the technical stuff down the corridor, Starbuck sat by her locker. She'd spent an hour talking to the American President, the Prime Minister of a country called Britain who sounded like Baltar _One reason not to trust the frakker _and a small dapper gentleman from the United Nations. Apparently there were hundreds of nations on Earth and this UN represented most of them. Daniel had tried to explain but she'd switched off as usual.

The flying had blown the cobwebs away, Lorne was a pain in the ass but a good pilot. Like a quieter cross between Greg and Lee. She'd stopped thinking of them, it hit her. With all the fuss of the briefings, helping Col Carter with the Nav system and then the flying, her friends and family had retreated to the back of her mind.

A wave of guilt washed over her. Covering her face with her hands she sat forward resting her elbows on her knees. That had been weeks ago, now she was drained.

'Penny for them?'

She looked up and saw Sam Carter leaning against her own locker. Dressed in green BDUs, she looked tired. Starbuck smiled weakly.

'Realised that I'm getting used to being here. Its been weeks almost months and its like I've always been here ma'am.'

Sam pushed off her locker with a sigh and sat down before Starbuck.

'Its Sam. Please. And its good to see you settling in. I hope that you'll consider staying on after we find the fleet. But you're feeling guilty about neglecting their memory...No that makes it sound like they're dead. But you get my meaning? Its natural to get caught up I the moment Kara, and it won't be long now.'

Sam grinned as Starbucks head snapped up.

'I wanted you to be the first to know. We located the gas giant that you flew through. It must have been some kind of rift and that threw you into the path of the Hammond. But it means that I can pinpoint the planet and the fleet. We'll be leaving in the morning.'

Starbuck just sat. Staring at Carter wide eyed and gaping.

'You mean it? I'm going home?'

Carter grinned

'Yep. It'll take us two days in Hyperspace to get there.'

A tear appeared in her eye and Carter hugged her. It had taken time but now the tears came, to both women. Thoughts of home, the fleet, Lee, Sam, the old man flooded into her head. _Frack you Leoben! Harbinger of doom? I'm leading them home!_

'Um, ladies? General O'Neill would like to see you both? Final briefing in a half hour.'

They laughed at the uncomfortable looking young female Major stood in the door. Sam stood wiping an eye and opening her locker.

'Thanks Pat, we'll be right up.'

Thrace jumped up and opened her locker. A new found energy gripped her. The locker had the few personal belongings she'd carried with her. A picture of her and Sam, one of her, Zak and Lee and her dog tags and ring. She touched them one by one silently thanking the gods. Grinning she turned to Sam Carter.

'Which of these fancy uniforms should I wear then Sam?'

Carter turned and held up her blue Class A uniform and smiled,

'As its such a biggy these should do.'

Nodding Starbuck pulled out the uniform the SGC had provided. It fitted perfectly, although the skirt had been a surprise, and had pilots wings, captains bars and a set of medal ribbons representative of her 'service' with the USAF. By the time she'd finished dressing, with a bit of help, she looked every bit the USAF Captain she realised, with a jolt, she was becoming.

**SGC Briefing Room**

The room was filling up quickly Jack noted. The Atlantis team, SG1 and 3, the SAS boys _and girl_ and a plethora of others. USAF, British Army and RAF uniforms mingled with the IOA suits and Atlantis uniforms. Daniel was busying himself with papers and the computer as Kara and Sam came up the stairs. He looked up, began to say something then dropped his pen as he saw Kara in USAF uniform. Jack chuckled then realised that the room had gone quiet. Captain Kara Thrace had made quite an impression on the SGC and was fitting in very nicely. She looked totally at home in the class As. Well at home right up to the point that the entire room began to applaud that is!

The applause brought Kara up short. _What the frak?_ She stood blushing in a most un-Starbuck like manner in the middle of the people that were quickly becoming her extended family. Teal'c stood smiling at her, another stranger in a strange land, he'd helped her to cope with the culture shock.

_The Tauri, the thirteenth, are good people Kara Thrace, they will welcome you. But to be part of them you must give of yourself also._

He inclined his head and nodded. The Atlantis guy, Wolsley, smiled at her as he clapped along. That had been interesting as well!

_How will your compatriots will take to the possibility of being ruled by others?_

And there at the head of the room the two Generals that had unflinchingly thrown themselves behind this insane plan of Carters. O'Neill and Landry both smiling and applauding.

_We'll take you to them Captain, then you can bring them on home. I may even throw a party!_

A loud _AHEM _from Jack cut the clapping and the meeting turned serious. People took seats and the two senior officers took the stand. Jack stepped out to the front and gestured to the group.

'As most of you know I hate cliché.'

Teal'c rumbled

'Indeed'

Laughter rippled around the room

'But I stand here before a group of great people. We've all worked hard at getting this plan worked out and crossing all the tees and dotting the eyes. Colonels Carter, Mitchell...Damn you Cameron (a grin at his replacement) and Sheppard. The British contingent. Sgt Benton, there will be hearts breaking across Colorado when you leave tomorrow. All of you have done your damnedest to get this off the ground. In possibly the shortest time ever, even for the SGC, we have taken Captain Thrace's appearance and the existence of the Colonials and come up with a plan. I commend you. All of you. But most of all Major Thrace.'

There was an intake of breath. Kara looked about at the team sat near her. Teal'c smiled, Carter grinned like a cheshire cat and Daniel patted her shoulder. _Major?_

'Its one of the perks of the job Starbuck. I'm recommending that you are commissioned into the USAF, honorarily for now, as a Major . That's if you'll have us?'

Jack smiled at the now teary _Major_ Kara Thrace. It was a measure of the regard that they held her and all of the senior staff had agreed with him on it. _Hell I'd have done it anyway!_

'The way you have taken this situation and turned it around is an inspiration Kara,'

Carter stared at Jack, was this her Jack? God god he was getting soft! She smiled and a tear escaped down her cheek. _This is why I love him, always surprises!_

Kara smiled at Jack and stood. Another bone cracker of a salute.

'It'd be an honour sir.' _Dunno how the old man will take it though!_

Returning the salute in his usual, casual, style Jack turned to Hank Landry.

'General Landry will now detail the execution of the plan.'

Everyone sat straighter as the lights dimmed and the screen lit. Hank Landry noted the expectation, the professionalism and the energy of his audience. He smiled and began.

'As you all know, Major Thrace appeared in this area of space as the Hammond transited home. From here we have advanced to a point that we can locate the gas giant that she fell into. Colonel Carter has worked with the Major to extrapolate the information from the Viper nav computer. It appears that the Colonial Fleet is sitting here...'

The screen flashed to a pictorial version of the data from the Viper.

'The Puppis Constellation'

Jack smiled smugly,

'I told ya!'

Hank grimaced good naturedly and continued.

'Yes General, the Fleet should be here in orbit of this gas giant. It lies deep in uncharted territory. Not covered by the Asgard treaty or even explored by the Go'auld. The reasons are as yet unknown. SG5 are currently investigating this and we hope to have some idea by the time the mission returns.'

He took a sip from a glass of water and noted the silence in the room.

'It will, I am assured, take the task force two days to reach the area. The ships will drop out of Hyperspace short of the system and 302s will recon to ascertain the location and state of the fleet and any Cylon presence. From here it will fall to Major Thrace and Colonel Mitchell to make first contact with the Colonials. Colonel Sheppard will now discuss the task force constitution.'

Landry sat beside Jack in the front row as John Sheppard took the podium and clicked the screen to a new slide.

'Sirs, ladies.'

He began, a lopsided grin on his face,

'The Task Force is comprised of the USS George S Hammond, HMSS Ark Royal as the initial group. SG1 and 22 with SGA1 will embark with Mr Wolsey and Lt Col Davis. This group will be under the command of General O'Neill. The USS Apollo and PRCSS Sun Tzu with SG3 and SGA2 as the reserve under General Landry. Major Thrace will fly point with Colonel Mitchell in an F302 and make contact with the Colonial fleet.'

He paused and let the info sink in briefly.

'The reserve group will hold back until we can confirm that the situation is under control. Thereafter they will provide a rearguard group to cover the withdrawal of the fleet to a safer position so we can upgrade the Colonials drive systems, if compatible, under the expert tuition of Dr's McKay and Selenka.'

This drew a snort from Rodney McKay and a groan from Radek Selenka. Sheppard continued with a grimace at McKay.

The brief lasted a further hour. Arguments over diplomatic and scientific procedure continued well after it had finished. The teams withdrew and everyone got an early night. The mission was slated to depart at 1000 hours the following morning.

In her room Starbuck sat on her bed staring at her pictures of Sam, Lee and Zak and wondering where this craziness would take her next.


	8. Chapter 8

Part 8

This has been the hardest to write TBH! I have shamelessly lifted the first Galactica bits from the scripts but more will be forthcoming and it will be original. Its a bit short and like the Olympics will be, a bit shit, but please give me some pointers! I'm still struggling to write this and it may get a smack with the rewrite stick!

**SGC**

**Cheyenne Mountain**

The sun rose silently above Cheyenne mountain. A solitary eagle swooped and called for its mate. The day was only hours old but the temperature was already rising. It would be, on any other day, a pleasant way to rise. For most of the Operation Kobol personnel the day had begun at oh dark thirty. Loading of personnel and equipment had started the day before and was now finally nearing completion.

The days since the briefing had flown by. Starbuck had gone over the plan with Mitchell and the bridge crew of the Hammond so many times it was ingrained in her head. A single jump would bring the rescue fleet directly to the Colonials position but Colonel Carter had decided on a navigation check stop to ensure they were in the right place. The Ionian Nebula was within a few light years of the fleets location and would provide a good idea of the next step.

As the moment of departure neared Starbuck strode into the Gate Room. SG's One, Three and Twenty Two stood ready to leave. The two US teams resplendent in the new Multicam uniforms. Teal'c fiddled with the collar of his jacket and Daniel Jackson was trying to shape his new jungle hat into something more comfortable. Cam Mitchell grinned at Starbuck who, like him, wore a flight suit.

"The Oak leafs suit ya Starbuck."

He winked at her and turned to the other teams. SG22 stood together chatting with members of SG3, apart from McBride who was off to one side. The man had been withdrawn for a few days and it had become a major concern for Pete Phillips who'd voiced them to Mitchell and Landry. Unfortunately he'd been told to keep an eye on the young man but not do anything about him. Phillips was left with the uneasy idea that he was being kept out of something.

"OK, we ready to go?"

Nods and various OKs and affirmative's greeted him.

"Right. Walter? Signal the Hammond. We're ready t..."

As he spoke the room dissolved before him and was replaced by the grinning visage of Jack O'Neill.

"Aww crap!"

Jack's smile grew wider.

"Walter at his Radar tricks again?"

Cam grimaced and smiled,

"Yeah, gotta have a word with him about that!"

**Battlestar Galactica**

**CIC**

Adama stood at the chart table, Laura Roslin next to him. It had been a draining few weeks. His best friends descent into apparent insanity, the trial and subsequent not guilty verdict on the weasel Baltar. She spoke softly now.

"Gaius Baltar is innocent. Just the sound of that makes my skin crawl."

Frak, here it comes. Adama braced for the incoming revelation.

"Not guilty is not the same as innocent Laura."

He said quietly. Roslin looked over at him.

"It must've been particularly difficult for you. What, you just... couldn't get the other two guys to budge?"

Adama looked up meeting her gaze steadily, not wanting to drop this on Laura Roslin like this but...

"You voted for his acquittal, didn't you?"

She said in hushed tones. The accusation, the shock coming through clearer than if she'd shouted it at him.

"I hate to say it. Defence made their case, the prosecution didn't."

Adama breathed out, his last statement had been hammered home to him in his last showdown with Lee and he'd hated admitting it.

"Gaius Baltar is a traitor. We both know that. Regardless of the outcome of this trial."

Laura countered. She was bound to be to be hostile, everything that Baltar had done had seen to this.

"No one's asking anyone to forget. Or to forgive. But we have to look to the future."

His plea fell on deaf ears, Laura Roslin shook her head, gave him one last look of pity and anger and stalked off. Bill Adama sighed and turned to his left.

"Mr Gaeta"

Felix Gaeta, still stinging from the blow of Baltar's aquittal gazed up, his anger barely in check.

**"**Yes, Sir." 

**Adama let it slip for now. He stood straight.**

"Commence jump prep. We're going to the Ionian Nebula." 

**USS George S Hammond**

**The bridge hummed with activity. The officers at the helm and nav stations sat monitoring the ships systems barely uttering a word unless it was necessary. Colonel Sam Carter sat between them reading a report on an iPad, a piece of electronic equipment that she'd been blown away by! **

**Back in the day this kind of thing had been commonplace. Graystone Industries had been at the forefront of it. Then the Cylon wars came and destroyed all reliance on networking and the Holoband had disappeared into history. **

**All very efficient. Whilst the similarities between the two races astounded her,Kara Thrace was still surprised at how quiet the Thirteenths ships were. The CIC on Galactica would have been a noisy experience compared to this. **

**Major Marks looked up from the helm and smiled. Kara nodded and stopped next to Sam who looked up. She grinned at Kara, who'd been prowling the ship for the two days they'd been in hyperspace. **

**It had all gone well. Departure from the solar sytem had taken a few hours and on clearing Pluto they were clear to jump. The Hammond and the Ark Royal had gone to hyperspeed and were now a matter of hours from the nav fix she'd decided on.**

**Jack was now in conference with Daniel and Richard Wolsey and Mitchell on how to proceed and Carter was a little surprised to see Kara here. Carter had started to consider Thrace as something of a little sister. She felt very protective of the younger woman and wanted nothing but success for this plan. Starbuck, although she'd never admit it, felt the same about the Colonel. She saw some of the old man in Carter and warmed to it.**

**"Thought you'd be with the boys discussing the next step?"**

**"Yeah, I should be but Mitch can let me know what was decided,"**

**She noted with a grimace. Staring out at the maelstrom of hyperspace she could feel the pull of her people as if it was a tangible thing. Something was nagging at her mind, telling her she was on the right path.**

**"We're getting close Colonel. I can feel it."**

**Far away in another sector another fleet stood ready. Ready to deal humanity a blow. To end this once and for all. All was set. Plans in motion.**

**_Subset, querulous androgeny, Doors to automatic, Thrusters firing. Jump point opening, the four have returned! REVELATION_**

**As one a number of things happened. The Hammond and the Ark Royal dropped from Hyperspace just as the Colonial Fleet did likewise. The fleet distant by a few parsecs and hidden by a small gas giant. A broadband EMP was fired and simultaneously both sets of ships lost all power briefly before it was almost instantly restored. **

**Aboard the Galactica chaos reigned. A massive Cylon fleet has appeared. Pilots raced to their ships, bounding up corridors and towards their Vipers. Four people met in a room, revelation! Chief Tyrol, Colonel Tigh, Sam Anders, Tory Foster stand facing each other.**

**"You have got to be frakkin me!"**


	9. Chapter 9

Its back! Not as good as I'd like but needed to make some progress.

**Ionian Nebula**

As the _Galactica_ floundered, battery power the only source of energy, Vipers thundered from her launch bays. Pilots checking in as squadrons joined up.

"Ok boys and girls time to fight! Kickstart to all Vipers go gate!"

In CIC Helo looked over the shoulder of one of the controllers, he grimaced and pointed a finger at the scope.

"Who's that in Viper three?"

**Earth Task Force**

**F302 Snake One**

Kara Thrace felt the ship respond to her inputs. It had launched flawlessly and now sped towards the fight. The Hammond had been caught on the periphery of a massive EMP. All the ships in the task force had suffered from a momentary loss of power; Kara had exchanged a look with Carter and bolted for the hanger bay. She'd almost collided with Mitchell as they'd hit the ready room door together. The pair had spoken reams with a look and grabbing their gear pounded for the fighter.

Now, with Mitchell running the sensors, she barrelled towards the fleet, _her fleet!_

"Strike, Snake One. Give me a vector on the inbounds."

Mitchell all but yelled into his mike. The fighter controller on Ark Royal, designated as flight coordinator for the mission, replied in clipped British tone.

"Snake One target 15 left, range 20, 6000 above, spinward of the small moon."

Ahead of them the _Galactica _and the fleet hove into view as they rounded the small moon. The tail end of the Battlestar's fighter cloud streaking away from them towards the enemy.

"Hooee! That's a shit load of targets!"

Kara stiffened in the cockpit as she finally saw her family. She responded by throttling up and heading for the rearmost Viper.

**Viper Three**

Major...no, not anymore, _Mr _Lee Adama sat in his old Viper flying towards the Cylons. His DRADIS lit up with multiple contacts as he heard squadrons checking in.

"Kickstart, this is Apollo. I'm at your six, bring up the rear."

A momentary blip to his left flashed on the screen.

"Apollo? What the frak?! The old man know you're...never mind! Good to have you along!"

Lee grinned and was about to reply when the DRADIS ghost flashed again.

"Greg I've got something back here. Going to take a look. Break, Galactica, Viper three. Got a DRADIS ghost am going to have a look."

The grey, sleek fighter peeled off heading for the target.

**CIC Galactica**

Felix Gaeta sat at his scope watching the DRADIS tell him the worst. A Cylon fleet had jumped in. Already raiders were streaming towards them. As the power began to come back on slowly he noticed new contacts. Fine tuning the set he opened his mouth to talk but was interrupted.

"Mr Gaeta, ready launch tubes One through Five, Ten through Fifteen. Release of Nuclear weapons is authorised."

Gaeta paused as the impact of the statement settled in. He considered his next move carefully. Taking a breath he turned to see the Admiral's piercing blue eyes boring into him.

"A problem Lieutenant?"

Gaeta blushed crimson and decided to speak.

"Sir, notwithstanding your order, I have three contacts, unknown configuration at the limit of our DRADIS. Two are gunstar sized and one is at least heavy raider sized. The Gunstars are holding steady but the raider is tailchasing Viper 3."

Adama paused. Weighing his decision. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath.

"Continue with the order Mr Gaeta and see if you can firm up the contacts. Hold the tubes at ready one. XO ready an emergency jump."

Gaeta visibly relaxed and continued his orders. Keying an open channel he brought up Racetrack in her Raptor.

"Raptor Three one three. Vector Six six two and confirm new contacts at that location."

**USS Hammond**

Sam Carter eyed the melee before her. Her defensive screens were up and the whole ship was cocked and ready to go. Jack stood next to her, arms crossed, letting her do her job. She looked up at him and smiled grimly.

"What next?"

Jack looked down and returned her smile.

"We wait. We wait for Starbuck and Cam to make contact. Then we move like we got a purpose."

**Viper 3**

Lee Adama followed his HUD's cues, tracking the larger bogie. It looped and dove. Finally pulling up behind him. He jinked and turned trying to get a look at the ship. He caught a flash of grey and a star painted on its flank. Suddenly the target looped away. He lost it.

"Frak!"

Checking the war book on his central display he got no clues. Gritting his teeth he prepared to try something different when he chanced to look to his left. It was there. Big, grey and unknown. Not Cylon. _NOT CYLON!_

"Ah, Galactica. I have eyes on an unidentified contact. It's not, I repeat NOT Cylon."

At this point the bigger fighter closed on him, swinging in on his port wing. The cockpit finally lit up and revealed a pair of grinning faces. One he didn't know...one he did!

"K...Kara?"

"Hi, Lee."

" Kara?"

"Don't freak out, it really is me. It's going to be okay. I've been to Earth. I know where it is. And I'm going to take us there."


	10. Chapter 10

Thanks, as always, for the feedback. Yes Trife I do read the reviews. There are a few holes in this I know but I kept them for the sake of timing. Can't have it all happening too quickly!

As Kara and Lee became reacquainted Mitchell keyed his transponder. A signal was sent to Major Kevin Marks console on the Hammond. The display flashed twice, telling him there was an incoming message. Simultaneously he keyed the acknowledge button. The decrypt programme ran its magic and as the terminal flashed again he smiled and, keeping his eyes on the console, turned slightly.

"Colonel, I have a valid mission message from Snake One. Code word, touchdown..."

He grinned.

"Colonel Mitchell adds a PS. The Crowd goes wild!"

Sam almost laughed, but keeping her decorum, looked to Jack.

"Move with a purpose General?"

Jack grinned like a Cheshire cat and bowing he swept an arm forward.

"Please do Colonel, please do!"

Sam finally cracked and grinned. Turning to Marks she finally gave the order.

"Target all weapons on that enemy fleet. Kleinmann, see if you can raise the Galactica."

She looked up at her XO and nodded. Taking his cue he touched his earpiece.

"All fighters launch. Support Colonial Vipers in any way possible! Your signal is buster!"

**Raptor**

Racetrack gunned her engines as she flew along the vector from the CIC. The fight was behind her now and she was padlocked on her displays. Skulls, sitting in the rear of the ship, also scanned his console. Seeking anything out of the ord...

"Gotcha! Racetrack, to the right! Tally two contacts! Massive power buildup!"

As he yelled out a volley of missiles and gunfire erupted from the two ships. Racetrack jinked to her left and cleared the missile by a hull width.

"Frak me! Get on the horn to Gal..."

Skulls interrupted her shouting

"Racetrack look out the viewport!"

The pilot glanced back out of her canopy and saw the missiles impacting on the Cylon fleet. In addition another vessel was moving alongside the first and joining in. Fighters were running in from behind the ships as well as streaming out from the two pods on each vessel.

"Well it looks like we found an ally! Patch me into the comm, and get the cameras rolling!"

**Galactica CIC**

Gaeta stood, mouth hanging open, next to Bill Adama and Helo as the two smaller ships decimated the Cylons. One by one the Vipers joined the fray knocking out many more Raiders.

"Admiral! I have Racetrack, she's within about two thousand klicks from the newcomers."

Dee reported one hand clamped on her headset. Adama allowed a grim smile, and was about to speak when Dee, eyes popping, gasped.

"Whats up Dualla?"

Dee looked up. _Tears?_ She was smiling and crying.

"I have Apollo sir in Viper 3. He says he needs to speak with you about a lost cat?"

Bill Adama whipped his head around to stare at Dee. Apollo? In a godsdamned Viper?!

"What the Frak...Put him through!"

Dee nodded, tears still streaming _What the hades is going on?!_

"Apollo. Galactica Ac...Lee what the frak are you playing at!? I have multiple Cylon ships and these new..."

Apollos voice came through the speakers, jubilant, all thoughts of the troubled times surrounding his resignation and the trial gone. He sounded, well, like the teenager Bill had left behind many times.

"Galactica Actual, Apollo in Viper 3. I have a stray cat that needs a home. Request permission to escort to bay one?!"

_What the frak?_

"Godsdamn it Lee what the...Permission granted Major. Dee clear the bay for incoming."

He span away from the plot table, grabbed Helo and ran from the CIC. Helo gestured to the Marine guard stationed at the door.

"Get the alert section to the port bay now!"

He ran after the Admiral wondering what the heck was going on. Dee wiped tears from her face and stopped to listen. A new transmission was coming in.

"Galactica, this is the USS Hammond. Come in Galactica. I am sending new jump coordinates. Acknowledge please Galactica?"

**Viper Three/Snake One**

As the Vipers, assisted by the Hammond and the Ark Royal, battered the Cylons, Lee Adama stared across the scant meters between his Viper and the F302. He was grinning and crying.

The ship Kara was in was, different, but he could see his Kara. Starbuck, back from the dead. The other occupant, a man, stared back, a grin also plastered on his face.

"Where in hades have you been Starbuck?!"

As they coasted in towards the Galactica landing bay she looked back at Lee and grinned that feral, Kara Thrace grin.

"Tell you all over a whiskey Lee."

At this cryptic comment he frowned and keyed for approach.

"You remember how to do this Starbuck?"

The guy in the rear of her ship looked up.

"She'd better had do Major! This thing cost over thirty million dollars!"

Kara laughed out loud and got the 302 lined up. She got a bewildered Captain Kelly in flight ops.

"Galactica, Snake One on approach. This will be a hands on approach, bird has no auto landing system."

Kelly looked at the hand set, at his petty officer, who shrugged back at him then back at the hand set.

"Um, Snake One. Cleared in, checkers green. Call the ball."

In the 302 Cam was struck by the familiar jargon. They could have been a landing on a US carrier!

"Roger Glactica, Snake One has the ball. Hold on Colonel this'll be interesting!"

The F302 floated into the hanger bay, the Viper on its wingtip. Touching down gently, she taxied the big fighter to the elevator.

"Snake one, maglock secure."

**Hangerbay**

The Marines cleared most of the knuckledraggers out. But Galen Tyrol and Callie remained. As did Greg Mallen, having just recovered his damaged bird minutes earlier. The sight that greeted him was a Mark seven Viper containing a grinning Lee Adama, who vaulted the cockpit and ran towards the big, _godsdamned huge! _fighter that was being towed out, no, _taxied_ out into the bay.

"Chief what the hades..."

He stopped mid sentence as Adama stepped up beside him.

"We'll find out together Greg."

The canopy slid forward on the big grey ship. Greg noted the lettering, colonial writing, on the ships flanks. UNITED STATES AIR FORCE, it meant no sense! He turned to look at Helo who just shrugged.

**Viper Lead**

Having lost Kickstart, damaged, to a raider, Brendan Costanza had taken over Red Squadron. Hotdog looped and caught a heavy raider in his HUD. He jerked on the trigger and missed with a wild burst.

"Frak it!"

He tried to catch the ship in his sights again, slide slipping and dipping to get it back in his sights.

"C'mon you bastard! C'mon!"

The young pilot didn't get a chance to fire again. A missile, twisting and turning, closed on the raider and as it got within a few metres of the enemy ship, blew. The flak caused by the explosion tore into the raider sparking a secondary explosion.

"What the FRAK!?"

A dark grey shape appeared alongside him. The pilot looked over, flipped a salute at the astounded Costanza. The wireless suddenly crackled.

"Colonial Viper, this is Snake Six on guard. We are friendly forces. Need a hand pard?"


End file.
